The Tale of Pepe le Pew
by albinotanuki
Summary: These are the origins of Pepe le Pew. Where did he come from? How did he become a womanizer? Find out here.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Pepe le Pew or any of the Looney Tunes characters. Those belong to Warner Bros.

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Bonjour. My name is Pepe le Pew. I know why you are here. You wish to know of my origin story; it says so in the description. Well sit down and I shall tell you.

My beginnings were not, how you say,… glamorous. I was like many newborn animals; blind, deaf, helpless. I was also an orphan; no maman, no papa, no one to take care of me.

I was found on the cold streets of Paris outside of an orphanage with nothing but a blanket inside a basket to keep me warm. Mother Marguerite, the head mistress of the orphanage, was the first to find me and took me in from the cold.

I do not remember much from my first few moments in the orphanage, but I had been told that my crib had to be moved to the basement to detour my odor from the other orphans. Mother Marguerite, however did not let her nose get in the way of looking after me. Perhaps being a nun helped her in being vigilant in taking care of me despite my unpleasant smell or perhaps it was simply out of her kind heart to look after a helpless skunk baby like me.

I was too young to realize what life would have in store for me.

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Okay, I know its short, but I promise to write more in the next chapter(s). Anyways, please R&R.


	2. Chapter 2

I was not like most young boys growing up, let alone most children. Aside from my… distinctive scent, I had a certain fascination with beauty, whether it be a simple flower, a butterfly's wing, or the rays of the sun. I was also obsessed with stories of romance. While most boys were into tales of action and adventure, I was into tales of love. I would often imagine myself wooing a young maiden and she returning her love. My favorite story growing up was _La Belle et la Bete_, or as you may well know it as _Beauty and the Beast_.

Of course, being different made me stand out, but it didn't always bring me the best company. No one would adopt me and my fellow orphan siblings would complain that my stench would drive away potential parents from adopting them. Due to my unorthodox personality, my sexuality was also brought into question, which didn't help with the teasing.

I was a lonely child. Not many would come to play with me simply because I didn't act or smell like the rest. No matter how many baths of tomato juice I would take, the stench would keep coming back along with the cruelty. But there was one who was not cruel at all.

Her name was Dia. Neurological damage from birth had left her blind and unable to smell, but although she could not see with her eyes, her heart saw many things. While the others would push me in the mud, she would help me up. She would dry my tears when my eyes got soggy. To say that I saw her as a friend is an understatement. In fact, she might've been the first girl I ever fell in love with.

I was much too shy to tell Dia of my feelings for her (Moi? A shy young lad? Perhaps a shock to you, but oui, I was.). I never got up the courage to tell her that I loved her; not even on her last day at the orphanage when a rich couple came and adopted her. I had heard that her new parents were going to take her to see a special doctor to help restore her sight and sense of smell.

I vowed that day that I would reunite with her and we would be married, but in order to win her affection, I had to become the best lover there was.

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Please R&R.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, a little heads up. This contains major spoilers from the Jean Cocteau version of _Beauty and the Beast_. If you haven't seen it and wish to see the movie first before being spoiled, stop right here, watch the movie and come back. If you have seen or don't really care that much about spoilers, please continue.

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I became a vigorous student learning from the masters of love. I turned to literature, film, theater; all I could to learn how to appeal to a woman. As I grew older, I became more passionate on the subject of love. While the other children played outside, I was inside reading novels from the Bohemian Revolution.

Mother Marguerite decided one day to take us to see a screening of Jean Cocteau's _La Belle et la Bete_. Being as this was my favorite story, I was most excited to see the film. We got a private screening (perhaps to keep other customers away from my stench) and I could barely contain myself with excitement in seeing the film. What I got was disappointment.

Everything seemed fine up until the end. When Avenant, the Beast's competition for Belle, was shot by the statue of the Moon Goddess, Diana, and died, right when the Beast was dying as well, Avenant took the Beast's form and the Beast took Avenant's. They explain that it was because Belle loved the Beast's soul, but also Avenant's dashing looks.

This made me angry. What made it worse was that THIS was our happy ending and all the children started cheering. No! I refused accept it. As a little skunk, I had always interpreted the moral of the story being that ones beauty is found within and that if you took the time to look beyond outward appearances, that inner beauty would be revealed to you. Instead of having the Beast's own beauty shine through, he stole the face of the man who Belle loves for his looks to truly accept him as her husband.

"ALLONGEZ!" I shouted in the theater, "This movie is nothing but a lie! She does not truly love the Beast if she lusts for Avenant!"

All the children stared at me and Mother Marguerite was forced to drag me out from the theater.

"That is NOT how we behave in the cinema, Pepe." She said scolding me.

"But she does not love him!" I protested, "Surely you, who knows all about moral virtue, see the travesty of having the Beast, who's of good heart, end up with the face of a man who's morals are not good."

"Pepe," Mother Marguerite tried to reason, "it was only a movie."

"No!" I slapped her hand away, "Film is art and art is suppose to show a mirror to its audience and everyone is too blind to see the wickedness that movie has presented! They do not love the Beast; nobody does!"

I did not know why, but at that moment, I started to cry. I didn't know it then, but it turned out I was the Beast and Mother Marguerite seemed to see it now as well as she knelt down and whipped my tears.

"God loves him." She smiled, "Perhaps it is time you should get to know him."

Eventually, this would lead me into exploring the Catholic faith.

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Anyways, please R&R.


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, here we get into the controversial topic of religion. Be prepared.

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Mother Marguerite sent me off to study Catholicism as an alter boy. Although I was baptized as a Catholic, I had never really been that well versed in the faith. I had heard that after my baptism as a baby, the priests had to filter and refilter the Holy water to get rid of the pungent smell. I was put under the wing of Father Urbain, who was quite strict with his teachings. I often got in trouble with Father Urbain. He would take away my romance novels saying that they promoted lust.

But I cannot say that I was good Catholic boy either. I once got myself in trouble practicing my romantic allure to a statue of the Virgin Mary, and was ordered to recite 59 Hail Marys, which I probably deserved, but then again, she was a beautiful woman; I could see why God chose her to have his son. I would also ask questions about the Bible to Father Urbain that were either hypothetical or brought up points about things that Catholics, let alone Christians, don't follow whether it be the Old or New Testament and he would get mad at me for it.

To be honest, I wasn't much of a fan of what Father Urbain nor what he preached. He was very strict with how a Catholic should perform, even more so than most Catholic priests. He was especially tough on my "lustful" interests and behavior, which, according to him, was against the Bible.

One day, however, I came across a passage in the Bible called "The Song of Solomon". It was a poem about a woman and her lover performing in sexual passion. It was very descriptive in the intimacy and the acts in which the two lovers engaged in. It got me thinking, "If such acts were against the Bible, why would the Bible have this passage in it?"

I decided to show Father Urbain the passage, stating that sexual desire was not entirely a sin. Father Urbain just closed the book on me.

"I think you've been reading too much now, Pepe."

That's when I finally had it. It seemed to me that Father Urbain was more concerned with control than he was with what the Bible had to say.

"You know the reason I'm so 'preoccupied with lust', Father Urbain?" I finally spoke, "Its because I've been in love with the only girl who has ever shown me kindness and I plan to marry her!"

"Well then you won't ever be a priest." He said.

"So I won't. Au revoir."

So I left the church and decided from there that I would find Dia and make her mine.

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Anyways, please R&R.


	5. Chapter 5

Grasse: a region in the Mediterranean where many flowers grows; hence why it is the perfume capitol of the world. It was where I was told that I would find Dia. I had been looking all over France and now I was closer to finding her.

I looked round the city and, out of nowhere, there she was. Dia had grown so much since last we were together and now she was more beautiful than ever, and was, smelling a rose; it seemed that doctor did some miracle on her.

However it seemed my dream-come-true was about to become a nightmare as I approached her and she started holding her nose.

"Dia, its me: Pepe." I told her.

Dia started to back away slowly as I approached her. At that moment, a tall, handsome young man asked Dia what was wrong… before kissing her. My heart sank, and wouldn't you know it? His name was Avenant.

"Dia!" I pleaded at one last attempt to win her over, "I love you…"

All Dia did was look at me before walking away with her beau.

My heart was now completely broken. She had chosen Avenant over the Beast. It seemed I had wasted all these years to win her love. Who was I kidding? Who could ever love someone like me?

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Please R&R.


	6. Chapter 6

Paris had never felt so lonely returning home. I watched lovers kiss and caress one another as I walked down the Champs Elysee. It suddenly seemed all so depressing. I then came to a bridge over the Seine and looked down at my reflection. All of my time had been wasted trying to become a great lover only to be rejected. After Dia's sight and sense of smell had been cured, she seemed to have become the same as everyone else. There was nothing for me anymore.

I thought about ending it all. The water looked so peaceful. I knew it was a sin to commit suicide, but I was no longer sure that there was a God. If so, then why would he have put me on this Earth with no love or affection?

I was about ready to jump, when suddenly, qu'est-ce que c'est? A flash of black and white caught my eye. A femme skunk, and in Paris of all places, and she was being chased by a large dog. This must've been a sign. Perhaps there was still hope after all.

I had to save her. I stood in front of the vicious dog and, without doing much of anything, my stench scared him off. I turned to the femme skunk, who was staring right back at me. I rushed over to her and embraced her in my arms.

"My darling," I said, "You must be grateful for me saving you, but I should be thanking you for saving me."

She seemed rather shy as she tried pulling away from me.

"There is no need to be shy, my love." I said pulling her closer, "You and I are destined to be together; it is written in the stars from the sparkle of your eyes."

She pulled away from my arms and ran off.

'A game of hide-and-go-seeking?' I thought, 'Alright, I shall play along.'

I went searching, calling out for her. It took quite some time, but I was determined to find her and I was having quite some fun. It didn't take long for me to spot her… along with her owner.

"Penelope!" called out the woman with an American accent, "Thank goodness I found you. You had mama worried."

I watched as the woman picked up the skunk. At the orphanage, we classes in English, so I was able to pick up most of what she was saying.

"Look at you, all covered in paint, you naughty kitty, and you smell like a garbage dump. Come on, lets get you home and washed up."

Kitty? Paint?!

It was then I realized that my femme skunk wasn't a skunk at all. How could I have been such a fool?

'But wait!' I thought to myself, 'She could still be the one. Perhaps us crossing paths was not just a coincidence. After all, what was a cat than but a skunk without it scent?'

I made a decision right there that I would not give up this time; that I would win this kitty's love.

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Please R&R.


	7. Chapter 7

I decided to do a little investigation. Through my research, I've learnt that the cat in question lived with a painter in a studio apartment (which would explain the paint she had on her back that night). I was still in the love for this femme feline, but I needed a strategy to win her affection.

I decided to pay her a visit by climbing up the balcony of her apartment in the cloak of night. I saw her curled up adorably in a chez lounge du chat. She awoke to the sound of my footsteps (or perhaps my distinct fragrance).

"Yes, it is me, my darling." She said.

I suppose she did not believe it as her hair stood on end, her back arched, and she darted out of the room. I trotted behind her.

"Do not be afraid, my darling. I have only come to win your love."

Nearly at that instance, I had heard a shriek. She must be so overwhelmed by my presence. I soon found her back in a corner of the studio. As I approached her, I came looking around at the painting her owner did.

"I see your owner has quite the talent." I said to the cat, "She must make a lot to help take care of you in such fine style, but do not worry, you'll live the life of luxury with me."

It seemed only proper for me to address her current mistress to receive permission to marry this pussycat. I walked gallantly into the artist's room, when much to my surprise, this seemingly kind mistress hit me squarely in the head with a vase and threw me out with a stream of the most undignified language that only the most vulgar of Americans would ever say.

Seems it would prove more difficult to win, but was willing more than ever to accept the challenge.

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	8. Chapter 8

From my observations, it seemed that the mistress of the lovely pussycat was very possessive and unwilling to allow this beautiful kitty to pursue her love of me. I would have to be stealthy to allow my love to pursue her dream life with me.

I came the next night under the balcony with my accordion. I sat down and started to play. As I pressed the notes on my accordion, I started to sing _J'envoie Valser_.

My pussycat appeared from the window. My Juliet to my Romeo. It seemed my plan was working.

Suddenly, what was this?

SPLASH!

A bucket of water on my head? Seems an odd way to show affection, but perhaps she plays hard to get.

I shall come back another time with an offer even she cannot exist.

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	9. Chapter 9

I came through the balcony the next evening. Again, I had found the femme pussycat asleep on the chez lounge. I snuck in through the window and softly stroked her fur. She woke up to my touch and sprung up, hissing at me with an arched back and claws bared.

"I know you are afraid of me since we barely know each other," I spoke, "but I am willing to show you the depths of my love."

At that moment, I pulled out a razor.

"I shall demonstrate my love for you the same way Vincent Van Gogh did for his woman."

I took a quick swipe near my face, pretending to cut off my ear. At that point, I pulled out a red rose and presented it to her, only to find her flat on the floor, having fainted from the shock of my romantic devotion.

I took this moment to scoop her in my arms and whisked her away through the window so her jealous mistress could no longer interfere.

I took her to my home and laid her down on the divan. She looked so innocent sleeping, I couldn't help but stroke her lovely cheek as she slept. After that, I decided to let her rest and dream peacefully.

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	10. Chapter 10

I figured my sweet pussycat would wake up eventually, so I decided to prepare dinner. I started setting the table when I heard her waking.

"Ah, you are awake." I said greeting her.

The pussycat then darted for the door, which I had locked to keep her safe.

"You don't want to go outside. Its cold out there."

The femme pussycat pulled out a match while holding her nose.

"Ah, candlelit dinner. You and I think quite the same, no?"

I took the match from her paw so she would not burn herself and lit the candelabra on the dinner table.

"Come sit." I said pulling out a chair for her, "I made soup."

I had made her a bowl of soupe a loignon. I sat across from her as she looked down at the bowl.

"Do not worry, there is no poison in that soup." I jokingly assured her.

She took the spoon next to her and tasted it. She seemed to enjoy it. You know, I believe it was Beethoven that said only the pure of heart can make a good soup. I cannot say that I am of pure heart, but I do make a good soup.

"Eat up, me petite; soup isn't all you'll get. I've also made us soufflé."

I presented her with the soufflé, but sadly it deflated. You know, every time I make soufflé, that always happens. Perhaps it is because it is puffed up and fancy rather than plain and honest like me.

"No matter. I've also made us a Caesar salad."

However, when I presented her the salad, the lettuce started to curl up and wilt. You know, its so hard to find a good head of lettuce these days. So I decided we'd skip to dessert. I presented her with some ouefs a la neige (eggs on snow).

The pussycat seemed to like the dessert fondly. It seemed she had quite the sweet tooth. Now I had her weakness.

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Please R&R.


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